stream down her face. “Please, don’t hurt me.”
“But I must, love.” He ran his tongue over her face. “You’re a tasty little morsel.”
Molly felt the blade dig into her flesh as the last song on her list finished playing.
CHAPTER 11
9:07 AM
David Bathry looked at his watch, feeling his jaw tighten. The silence of the subterranean room mocked him. He cursed. The bastard should have returned by now. He had released the halfblood hours ago, more than enough time to finish the job. Could the beast have run into some kind of trouble? Perhaps, but he knew the man’s punctuality left much to be desired. With each outing, he seemed to return later and later, adding ten to twenty minutes to each trip. Why? Was he up to something?
Getting the halfblood ready for the missions had been tedious, difficult and risky. The unsupervised outings had been critical to ensure he could avoid detection in modern-day London. Of course, the man was not ever completely unsupervised. Bathry’s servant, Albert, secretly followed him whenever he left this place except during actual missions.
Albert reported the bastard’s favorite haunt was an Internet café in the middle of the city. Bathry could not imagine the creature, who could barely read and write when he found him, utilizing modern technology like a civilized person. The image it conjured up was almost too funny. At least it had been.
The bloody bugger better return soon.
Bathry swallowed the entire contents of his glass. The Macallan burned his throat nicely but did nothing to calm his frayed nerves.
He stared at the other glass, whisky and poison blending together to create a lethal beverage. What a brilliant idea that had been. The halfblood would never suspect. But the amber liquid remained untouched.
Damn.
He paced around the room as a rumbling uneasiness and anger began to emerge from deep inside him. After several laps around the space, he checked his watch again. “Five past nine. Fuck.”
Bathry poured himself another drink, praying the beast would return before he finished it. If the wretch did not, he had no choice left. He drank down half the contents of his glass, considering every possibility.
One, if the halfblood had failed, he was likely dead already, killed on the spot at the break-in, saving Bathry the trouble of having to do it himself. How easy it would have been to end the bastard’s life here, in this place, where he could dispose of the body without detection. Although he would enjoy killing the pig in the open where his enemies would witness the slaying, it would be better not to have the blood on his hands, because he knew how ruthless they could be. The irony was that they would be the ones to contact him to come for the halfblood’s body. The abomination’s death at his enemies’ hands would mean no harm would come to him or his bloodline.
Two, the bastard he freed years ago had gone rogue. Bathry had been concerned about that prospect for some time, especially since the publication of that blasted Ripper letter— but even before. From the first day he had liberated the barbarian from The Sanctuary of the Forgotten, placing another in his cell, his misgivings had grown.
There was also a third possibility. His enemies, the Drakes, had captured the halfblood. He took comfort in knowing that the safeguards would protect the Bathry Bloodline’s secret plan. The brute did not know Bathry’s true name, though he was aware of the location of this house. Luckily, the deed to the property was meticulously constructed to never point to any Bathry above ground or below. To ensure it remained that way, the plan demanded it be burned to the ground if ever compromised.
He finished his drink, slammed the glass down, and watched it shatter into a thousand pieces.
Calm yourself, David. You have thought of every eventuality. If the bastard was off plan, he would suffer the consequences, not Bathry.
He smiled, feeling better about the
“But I must, love.” He ran his tongue over her face. “You’re a tasty little morsel.”
Molly felt the blade dig into her flesh as the last song on her list finished playing.
CHAPTER 11
9:07 AM
David Bathry looked at his watch, feeling his jaw tighten. The silence of the subterranean room mocked him. He cursed. The bastard should have returned by now. He had released the halfblood hours ago, more than enough time to finish the job. Could the beast have run into some kind of trouble? Perhaps, but he knew the man’s punctuality left much to be desired. With each outing, he seemed to return later and later, adding ten to twenty minutes to each trip. Why? Was he up to something?
Getting the halfblood ready for the missions had been tedious, difficult and risky. The unsupervised outings had been critical to ensure he could avoid detection in modern-day London. Of course, the man was not ever completely unsupervised. Bathry’s servant, Albert, secretly followed him whenever he left this place except during actual missions.
Albert reported the bastard’s favorite haunt was an Internet café in the middle of the city. Bathry could not imagine the creature, who could barely read and write when he found him, utilizing modern technology like a civilized person. The image it conjured up was almost too funny. At least it had been.
The bloody bugger better return soon.
Bathry swallowed the entire contents of his glass. The Macallan burned his throat nicely but did nothing to calm his frayed nerves.
He stared at the other glass, whisky and poison blending together to create a lethal beverage. What a brilliant idea that had been. The halfblood would never suspect. But the amber liquid remained untouched.
Damn.
He paced around the room as a rumbling uneasiness and anger began to emerge from deep inside him. After several laps around the space, he checked his watch again. “Five past nine. Fuck.”
Bathry poured himself another drink, praying the beast would return before he finished it. If the wretch did not, he had no choice left. He drank down half the contents of his glass, considering every possibility.
One, if the halfblood had failed, he was likely dead already, killed on the spot at the break-in, saving Bathry the trouble of having to do it himself. How easy it would have been to end the bastard’s life here, in this place, where he could dispose of the body without detection. Although he would enjoy killing the pig in the open where his enemies would witness the slaying, it would be better not to have the blood on his hands, because he knew how ruthless they could be. The irony was that they would be the ones to contact him to come for the halfblood’s body. The abomination’s death at his enemies’ hands would mean no harm would come to him or his bloodline.
Two, the bastard he freed years ago had gone rogue. Bathry had been concerned about that prospect for some time, especially since the publication of that blasted Ripper letter— but even before. From the first day he had liberated the barbarian from The Sanctuary of the Forgotten, placing another in his cell, his misgivings had grown.
There was also a third possibility. His enemies, the Drakes, had captured the halfblood. He took comfort in knowing that the safeguards would protect the Bathry Bloodline’s secret plan. The brute did not know Bathry’s true name, though he was aware of the location of this house. Luckily, the deed to the property was meticulously constructed to never point to any Bathry above ground or below. To ensure it remained that way, the plan demanded it be burned to the ground if ever compromised.
He finished his drink, slammed the glass down, and watched it shatter into a thousand pieces.
Calm yourself, David. You have thought of every eventuality. If the bastard was off plan, he would suffer the consequences, not Bathry.
He smiled, feeling better about the
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